


Pretenses

by Sheeana



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheeana/pseuds/Sheeana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Seventy-Fourth Games, Finnick and Johanna have a conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretenses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



> Happy birthday! <3

When she heard the door opening, Johanna tensed and reached automatically for the knife she kept hidden under her pillow. She nearly had it in her hand to throw at the intruder before she saw that it was only Finnick. He was the only person stupid enough to walk in on her in her private room in the Capitol.

"Just me," he said, holding up his palms to show her that he didn't have anything.

"Are you ever going to learn to knock?"

"Where's the fun in that?" He pulled a few plastic gems off his face, tossed them carelessly to the floor, and sat down on the bed beside her, all without asking her permission.

Johanna finally pulled her hand back from the pillow, but she didn't relax yet. "Not staying the night?"

"What?"

"Your... clothes," Johanna said, making it clear from her tone and her expression that she didn't exactly consider what he was wearing _clothes_. Besides the skin-tight leggings, he was only wearing a scattering of colorful jewels and silver glitter across his chest and over his eyelids.

"Oh. No, he just wanted the pleasure of my company for a few hours," Finnick said vaguely.

There weren't very many things Johanna could say in response without heading somewhere unpleasant, so she shrugged and scooted back to lean against the headboard. The television was showing the Games, all day and all night from the moment they began until the moment they ended. There wasn't much Johanna wanted anymore, but year after year, she looked forward to the moment this ended and they could finally get away from the Capitol again. Not that home was much better.

Even before her name was called in the Reaping, she'd never paid much attention to the ins and outs of the Games. She didn't care who won, who lost, who had the most tragic story. The only reason she was watching at all was because she couldn't sleep, but the only thing the commentators had been talking about all night was the girl from 12 and her undying love for the boy from her district. They were in a cave together, and the only thing that surprised Johanna was the fact that they weren't dead yet. She watched Finnick, waiting for him to break the silence. He liked to talk. She didn't like to listen, but they had to compromise somewhere.

"Well, that's new," he said suddenly, eyes going wide. 

"What?" she asked, disinterested, but when she turned and saw what was happening on the screen her eyes widened too. In the Games, anything could happen – but usually there was no kissing. "I know staying alive is good and all, but _really_?"

"Says the girl who pretended to be scared?"

"That's all it is, in the Arena. You know that." Her eyes flicked to the screen again. "Just pretending. That's all she's been doing since it started."

"Johanna Mason all over again?"

"Maybe. But I lived. You think she actually has a chance?" Johanna nodded at the screen.

"He doesn't," Finnick replied, his eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

"Not what I asked." If Finnick was right, then Johanna couldn't decide whether Peeta Mellark was worth pitying or admiring. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

"Does Katniss Everdeen have a chance?" said Finnick. "Maybe she does. Every Tribute has a chance, right?"

Johanna glanced at him, her lips curving into something like a smile, but without any warmth. Not all of them had been gifted with a golden trident and the ardent love of the entire Capitol. "Some of us more than others."

"I never asked for any of this."

"Neither did I. Neither did she," Johanna replied.

"She volunteered."

"Yeah? You think anyone actually volunteers for this shit?" Johanna turned to look at him, and her hair swung around with her, obscuring her eyes until she pushed it away, annoyed.

"You know what I think."

She did know, but they couldn't talk about what he thought while the Capitol might be watching. No one could hurt her, but Finnick still had a heart to be broken. He still had something worth protecting.

Sometimes, in between interviews and fancy dinners and private receptions with the idle rich, some of the other Victors whispered about something _better_. A world without the Games, she'd once heard Haymitch Abernathy mumble during one of his drunken rants. But what had that earned him? Two soon-to-be-dead Tributes playing a pointless, humiliating game for the entertainment of the Capitol.

"Well, fuck them," she said suddenly, keeping it vague enough that even the Capitol spies couldn't really fault her for it. Or maybe she just didn't care if they did. What did she have to lose? "Fuck all of them for everything."

Finnick gave her a _look_ , and she snorted derisively.

"Yeah, I guess you're already working on that," she said. If she were anyone else, she thought he might have gone for her throat. By now, he knew her enough to know that nothing she said meant anything. No, it was more than that. Nothing ever meant anything. Nothing ever changed. Just another year and another set of dead kids. Then it was back to her empty house in District 7, where everyone was polite and careful with their words while they refused to look her in the eye. There was no point to anything.

As he settled back onto the bed beside her, Finnick swiped his hand across his face and his palm came away covered in glitter. There was no point to that, either, and it still ignited a tiny spark of anger in her chest on his behalf every time she thought about it. She'd tried and tried, but she couldn't rid herself of it. Finnick would probably tell her it was a good thing. She probably would have agreed, before she found out exactly what anger at the Capitol had earned her.

"Are you staying?" she asked, and got only a shrug in response. Good enough for her.

They were quiet after that. Finnick picked idly at the remaining plastic gems stuck to his skin. Johanna watched a pair of clumsy teenagers fumbling around as if they weren't about to be slaughtered mercilessly, and she tried to stifle her anger with numbness. That was the only way any of them survived.


End file.
